Excerpt from Ehugh Thoughtspeaker’s ‘Imparting Wisdom: Guidelines for Teaching.’

“The new educator may enter their first classroom, possessed of the idea that by reason and logic alone they may prevail over the blank slate of fresh minds. In this regard, they are wrong on several counts and missing the fundament of all teaching aside—that each student is no more a blank slate than we are, for each is an individual, with their own skills and experiences, their own thoughts and opinions, their own likes and dislikes. A mediocre educator knows her subject matter, and a passable one knows how to put it to words—a good educator knows how to make it click into the puzzle of every mind before them, and makes a matter of understanding each of her students.”

“Master Yenna, about this formula …”

“Yes, Sanri? Oh, I see the problem here. I know you’re quite fond of the triangular divider, but in this case a pentagonal one would be more stable.”

“Thank you, Master! Say, did you hear about Master Umelli’s date? She had this big smile on her face–”

“Sanri. Your spell is collapsing.”

“A-Ack!”

—

Thinking about what she was learning, thinking about her new students, thinking about Joy—it made Yenna reminisce about the past. Sanri had been one of the students who always put a smile on her face, eager to gossip and learn in equal measure. She hadn’t been her best student, but naming just one felt a cruel measure to apply by the mere act of exclusion, for there was so much joy in her life solely from speaking to the many, varied people whom she had the honour to teach.

It felt fitting to think of Sanri at this time, even as the winds died down around her. It was Sanri, along with her friend Myell, who had insisted that their Master Yenna accompany them to see what all the fuss was about in town. Myell, just as much a gossip as her best friend but with a bit of a better penchant for thinking things through, had likely masterminded the send-off with the class. Alone, she always seemed so quiet and thoughtful—with her friends at her side, she lit up and became a new, beautiful person.

Still, it was Sanri who had thrown her the journal, the very journal she was using to write down all her thoughts at that exact moment. Even as she recorded the results of her attempts to understand Joy, her mind was flooded with scenes of her former class. Every little triumph and failure, the way they spoke to each other, the way they worked together to bring happiness into the lives of all around—Yenna’s life had been changed by them, and she could never be happier. She hoped that at some point she would be able to catch up with her old students, thank them for what they had done for her.

Wiping a little tear out of her eye as she reminisced on the send-off back in Ulumaya, Yenna resolved to return to them not just as a better mage, but as a better teacher and person, too. To do that, she would need to resolve matters here first.

As the rest of the evening passed, Yenna could feel that euphoria fading. Her newfound understanding of Joy had seemingly come with an extreme dose of the emotion, which made her worry about some of the negative ones—it was little wonder that Lumale had insisted she try Joy first. Shortly before retiring to bed, she attempted to call the witch herself for further guidance—the imager attempted to connect for several minutes without success, before Yenna finally gave up. With a sigh, she simply went to bed.

—

The following morning, it was time to head off once more. It hadn’t quite been a week yet, but Yenna was already starting to grow used to life on the road. Her tent was nowhere near as cozy as her little cottage back home, but the excitement of seeing some new sights every time she woke up seemed to make up for it. For example the moderate terrain of Aulpre, with its gentle hills and friendly forests suitable for kesh, were beginning to give way to taller peaks and rocky mountains. Though they were some ways off, it was still awe-inspiring to see the snow-capped peaks in the distance, and somewhat uncomfortable to have Chime suddenly lurch down into a dip as they passed over increasingly larger hills.

Still, this silupker-back ride was a perfect place to pass the hours with some research. Yenna was eager to understand the five colours that remained, though she was curious as to what exactly her understanding of Joy had earned her. From her pack she retrieved a metal box with a large lens on top, and conjured a sample of the green wind of Joy into its hollow interior. The partially crystallised piece of magic reminded her that she needed to do something about the bracelet Lumale had locked to her wrist.

“It certainly shows all the properties of wind,” Yenna mumbled to herself. “Stands to reason that the six elements were based on these colours, as they do correspond…”

“Ev’rythin’ alright, Master Yenna?” Jiin’s voice was unexpected, and Yenna nearly lobbed her device overboard. It wasn’t that she had forgotten that the yolm had been sitting there the entire time and started muttering to herself, it was a simple case of becoming far too focused on her work. It doesn’t help that she is so silent while Mayi is elsewhere—why are they apart, anyway? Yenna pushed the thought aside, composed herself and turned to face Jiin.

“I’m just trying to see what exactly this new facet of witchcraft does for me. Hm, say! Would you like to learn a spell?”

“Uh, heck yeah! S’just a shame th’ rest of us ain’t here. What spell’s it?”

Yenna pulled out a small sheet of paper, which nearly flew away due to Chime’s speed. Making a mental note to do something about that, she pushed it back in her bag and pulled out a chalkboard.

“I’m interested in the comparative power of wind-based spells between methods, and you shall be my test subject—oh, don’t fret!” Yenna stopped herself as Jiin’s smile began to fade. “Worst case scenario, you learn two ways to evoke a gust of wind. Now, hold this.”

“Chalk? How’re we gonna make wind with a bit o’ chalk?” The yolm frowned over the white stick as Yenna retrieved her own piece.

“Drawing our spells in a way we can see is a great tool to practice. I’ve seen your steady hand, so this should be simple for you. Follow these instructions…”

Jiin listened carefully as Yenna guided her through making a simple spell circle. The mage knew that this spell was, perhaps, skipping a few steps on her intended curriculum, but it was a simple enough thing to get into. The circle acted to direct magic channeled through it by a mage, converting it into a wave of force that manifested as a wind. After a quick lesson on how to channel magic into the circle itself, Jiin was able to blow a satisfying gust of wind straight up into her own face, ruffling her hair.

“Bwahaha! Master Yenna, y’should’a told me it was gonna do that!” Jiin’s smile was infectious, and Yenna couldn’t help but giggle. It had taken them a little over half an hour to cast a singular spell, but the hard work was done now—the experiment could commence.

“Well, heh, if my guess– erm, hypothesis is correct, the next one should be rather more exciting.” A curious gleam filled Yenna’s eye—this discovering and learning was the kind of thing she lived for. “We’re going to do a bit more visualising, so…close your eyes, I suppose.”

Yenna took Jiin’s hand and had her extend a finger. “Visualise something that brings you… joy. Focus on times that made you happy, and let that happiness fill your body.”

A big grin ran across Jiin’s face, along with a slight blush—Yenna could practically read her Mayi-related thoughts.

“Hehe. It’s not gonna mess it up if I’m gigglin’, is it?” Jiin looked like she was suppressing something more powerful than a giggle.

“I…don’t know! Let that feeling move through you, into your fingertip as you channel magic through it!”

Yenna’s eyes widened as the glow of magic on Jiin’s finger turned a vivid green, and she quickly moved the yolm’s hand to trace over the magic circle they had created. Jiin kept laughing at some treasured memory, and the glowing circle seemed to grow in power with every chuckle. Finally, Yenna had traced over the whole symbol. Carefully moving Jiin’s hand out of the way of it, she prepared herself for the results.

“Now, release that feeling. Let it goooOH!” Clutching her hat tight, Yenna covered her face as the gust spell circle exploded into a small whirlwind, whipping at her clothes and skin. It didn’t hurt, but it certainly pushed them both around—the chalkboard went flying into the air, and Yenna whipped a quick spell to catch it out of the air. Bringing it back down, the chalk had been entirely wiped clean—no doubt the wind had blown it off.

“What th’ heck was that?!” Jiin clutched her gut as she began to laugh hysterically. “Th-thought we were gonna– haahaha! Gonna get blown away!”

“That was incredible! Oh, Jiin! I could kiss you! U-Uh, but I won’t. Ahem. This is a phenomenal discovery—barely even an apprentice, and you might have just earned yourself a place in the history books!” Yenna furiously wrote everything down in her journal. Jiin gave a deep breath and steadied herself.

“O-okay, phew! Master Yenna, y’gotta explain. Why was that one so much bigger? Did you put yer own magic in it or somethin’?”

Yenna shook her head. “Not at all. The witches believe that emotional energies, defined by a kind of ‘colour’ of magic, correspond to all manner of physical phenomena. Joy has a place in wind and—well, I won’t pry, but your feelings of happiness are quite powerful. Putting that energy into the basic spell increased its expected power several times over.”

Jiin looked bashful, scratching her cheek—though Yenna couldn’t help but notice a slight twinge of sadness there too. “I s’pose I was quite happy, yeah…”

When the moment passed, Yenna had gone entirely into researcher mode—she had once again forgotten about the woman’s presence there and frantically sketched notes into her journal. All sorts of spells that conjured or relied upon some kind of force or wind could be altered with the power of Joy to greatly increase power or efficiency—to say nothing of the other five colours!

The mage found herself stopped by that thought. She only had a sixth of the whole thing at her disposal—Yenna would want to understand the remaining five. There was Stasis, Flow, Pride, Wroth and Certainty to be internalised yet. Yenna understood why Joy was the first one she was pointed towards—nearly everyone had something that made them happy, so it was quite simple to visualise. The rest of them held a more dubious place in Yenna’s own heart.

Pondering her own memories for a moment, she tried to determine the simplest colour to tackle next. Uncertainty was one of her driving forces as a researcher, so the colour of Certainty was going to be an issue. Wroth, too, would be difficult—the angriest she ever got was being interrupted midway through a good book, and that was hardly powerful enough to be called wroth. Stasis and Flow were interesting in their own right—the former seeming to relate to calm or inaction, while the latter held connotations of relaxation and even sorrow. Perhaps most accessible was Pride.

The colour of Pride was purple, and it was related to lightning. The elemental model that Yenna knew, and the model of the six colours, held this as an opposite to Joy. It wasn’t necessarily that the two couldn’t co-exist—in fact, the entire point of the elemental model was that all the elements could exist together, and even combine. She drew out a simple wheel of elements in her book, frowned for a moment, added the names of the colours, and frowned once again. Leaving it on the centre of her page, she felt determined to cover it in notes—for now, it looked dreadfully blank.